


Vanquished not Venged

by MsLanna



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Gen, zorya fix-it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-09
Updated: 2015-08-19
Packaged: 2018-04-13 19:21:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4534110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsLanna/pseuds/MsLanna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Paragon Shepard is taking one for the team again, more specifically one for Zaeed, after Vido Santiago got away on Zorya. But she has the resources to make him turn up again fast. Which only leaves the task of luring him into a dark and lonely place.</p><p>In parts 2-4 silliness got away with me and you can easily skip them without missing out on something. Sorry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Commander Shepard, paragon of humanity, felt completely ridiculous. Eyes followed her slow progress down the street, some of them in a way that made her want to draw her pistol and shoot. But she didn't have a pistol, or a shotgun, not even a missile launcher.

For a moment she wondered if the shoes would do for a weapon. The heels were certainly pointy enough to spear somebody with, but you would have to get at them first, not to mention the pumps wouldn't handle well. And you still needed some force to drive the point of the heel into flesh.

And that was only the start of her problems. No boots, no weapons, a dress that covered only a fraction of what she was used to from her jumpsuits and silky tights that encouraged its tendency to ride up. Thinking about ways to kill people was a welcome distraction.

At least nobody could recognise her face under the amount of paint she had applied. Something to be grateful for. Plus a wig because her buzz cut wasn't cutting it with the outfit. Shepard sighed. She looked like a cheap hooker. Which was actually the reason for the whole act. And overall the fucking shoes might help. Her urge to kill something became more urgent the longer she had to wear them.

Hopefully that would not be much longer. How would she ever explain to Liara that her scheme had failed and she needed not only the same intel again but also the same get up. No, this better work. And it would. Liara was good at what she did. All Shepard needed was some more confidence in her abilities. Which might be easier with a sidearm or at least boots.

Finally she reached the designated club. Hot air and loud beats engulfed her when she stepped inside. It was easier not to think about how she looked. The asari were wearing even less and moving a lot more interesting than she was, too. Also it was dark. Though some strategically placed light strips on the dress accentuated her curves. Or created them in some places.

She made a slow tour of the bar, noting where Santiago sat, still deep in debate with his contact. So far so good. She leant against the bar.

“What would you like?”

The question surprised her a little. Who did not know about Commander Shepard and her weakness for fine malt whisky? She was about to say 'the usual' but caught herself. Barely. Shit. “I'll have something frizzy, light on the alcohol with a paper umbrella in it.”

The bartender just stared at her.

Shepard suppressed a sigh and tried batting her eyes at him. "Please?”

The sweetness of the drink was barely mediated by the frizz, but it did have a paper umbrella. Shepard made her way slowly around the club, keeping an eye on her target. Vido Santiago was about to strike a great deal. A deal the other side was only willing to strike on Illium. Nobody was really sure why.

But the deal was good. He would feel good, a man who could own the world, a man who got off on being in power. He'd be looking for somebody to take that exhilaration out on. Laira's intel in that respect had been a little more detailed than Shepard would have liked.

She nursed her drink, keeping an eye on Santiago. How did you even go about this? Did she stare? Was that wrong? How the hell did people even go about this kind of thing? Letting her eyes wander around she settled down to wait.

At one point, Santiago caught her looking at him. Shepard, effected what she hoped was an embarrassed smile and looked into her drink. At which moment she realised that her dress had started its very own campaign against gravity. It took a lot of self control not to snort into her drink and not to pull the wayward hem down panicky.

Instead she raised her eyes again, met those of Santiago and then, very slowly, moved the hem down her thigh. Maybe that was sending the wrong message, but she was certain it did send a message at least. Her drink was quickly approaching the sorry state of being empty. Would she really need a refill before this went anywhere.

Shepard was contemplating the necessity of more drink and possibly a lot more alcohol when she felt somebody standing next to her.

“In need of a refill?” Vido Santiago was actually helping her out.

Shepard grinned relieved and somewhat stupidly. “I was wondering about it. What do you think?”

Santiago scrutinised her boobs under the pretence of looking at her glass. “I can help with that if you let me.”

Shepard looked at the paper umbrella, the only thing left in the glass and made sure it was positioned in a way to enable perfect view of her lighting enhanced physique. “Sounds good to me.” She looked up with a smile. “Name's Salome.”

“That is a beautiful name,” Vido said as he took her arm and led her to the nearest bar. "Can you dance like that, too?”

“Maybe you'll find out?” Shepard bit her lip. “Not that I have many veils to shed.”

“I promise I won't complain.”

Shepard laughed. This was easier than expected.

Of course it was also more difficult than expected. She had to entertain the stupid fucker for the duration of a whole drink. The innuendo was endless and cringe-worthy. But he seemed hooked enough and when she offered to continue the evening somewhere more private, he was game.

Shepard made sure to cling to his arm as they walked down the streets to her hotel room. On the one hand, it made him feel strong and as if she would be easy to overpower. On the other hand it allowed her to keep his arm, not to mention its ending appendage under control. That guy was a groper.

When the door closed behind them, Shepard leant against it with a sigh, locking it silently. “Oh man, this took forever. This is really hard work.”

Santiago turned towards her with a leery smile on his face. “Wait until I'm done with you and then say that again.”

Shepard blinked. “Oh, yeah. That.” She leant down to remove her heels. The only reason Santiago stayed put, was probably the clear view all the way down to her navel. Well, that was his problem. She straightened again. “Sorry, but frick-frack has been cancelled.”

“You can't do that.” Santiago took a step towards her, probably aiming to intimidate her.

“I just did.” Shepard rolled her shoulder. “And don't bother pulling your gun on me, oh alright, if you insist.”

Santiago pointed the muzzle at her face, gesturing for her to move aside. At least it was his actual gun.

Shepard put her palm over the muzzle. “Help yourself.”

There was a click and then a clatter as he dropped the weapon which was suddenly sizzling with electricity. “What-?” He shook his hand, torn between looking at the gun and her.

“Rigged door frame. Easy, really.” She kicked the useless weapon aside. “And I didn't have any weapon on me to get affected.”

“So?” He measured her. “Still leaves you at my mercy.”

“I am an N7, Santiago. Do you really want to do this?” Shepard put her hands up before her in a calming gesture.

For a moment he looked uncertain, but the mercenary shrugged it off. The raised hands might have fooled him. Poor bastard. A few moments later he found himself on the floor, probably unable to count the stars before his eyes and uncertain to which part of his hurting anatomy to hold on first. Since he was curled up in a ball of pain, it didn't really matter.

Shepard turned to the communication console. It took the Normandy a moment to reply and another to patch her through to Massani. It did surprise her a little that he was not making more use of the shore leave. It might well be the last any of them saw. As soon as the Reaper IFF was ready, they would be on a one-way trip to hell.

“Shepard, didn't expect you to call.”

“Didn't really expect you to be in, Zaeed,” she replied. “What about shore leave?”

“Been there, done that,” he replied. “And Illium isn't really my idea of fun.”

“Well, let me change your mind about that.” She grinned. “Got a surprise for you if you got a moment.”

“More of a surprise than your looks?” he crossed his arms before him.

Shepard frowned and looked down. Oh. That. She had forgotten about the silly dress. “Forget about how I look. That was just,” she waved a hand dismissively, “necessary camouflage.”

“I am sure you blended in just fine.” His tone was heavy with sarcasm.

“Listen, Massani.” It was a bit of a downer that she couldn't punch him in the face again. A good poke in the chest would have done, too. Damn. Santiago chose that exact moment to groan in pain. The numbing effect of her assault had obviously worn off.

“Is there a man with you?” It looked as if Zaeed was taking a step backwards.

“Yep,” Shepard grinned.

“This is getting more weird than I like.”

“Listen, Zaeed,” she ran a hand through her wig, accidentally dragging it down her face on one side. “I'd show you his face but I don't want you to come crawling thought the net.”

Vido made another unhappy whimpering noise. Maybe Zaeed recognised the voice somewhat. One of his brows rose. “Remember what happened last time I trusted you?”

“Yeah, but I also trusted you there and the whole mission turned out to be a lie. Look,” she pulled the annoying wig from her head. “You know where I am, drop by. Please.”

“How much begging can get I get out of you here?”

“Not much before I spoil the surprise.” Shepard winked. “Oh and one more thing, bring a gun.”

The mercenary's face was still full of questions, but he closed the connection. Shepard let out a sigh and turned to look at the man who was trying to get upright again. “Sorry, son.” She began to tie him up. “Can't have that.”

 

\- - - - - - - - - -

 

Goddamned Zaeed Massani took his sweet time. Shepard had made friends with a bottle of whisky she had found in the minibar. It was a tiny bottle, though. Not much friendship to be found. Finally the door chimed. Shepard really wished she had had the forethought to deposit some sensible clothes here before the stunt. Too late now. At least the stupid tights had found their way into the trash already.

“About time, Massani,” she snapped as she let him in.

The way he looked at her was proof that he still didn't know what to make of the whole thing.

“Oh, don't look at me, Zaeed. Should have told you to bring me some spares as well.” She left out a puff of air. “Too late now.”

“Now what?” Zaeed crossed his arms before him.

“He wouldn't shut up, so I gagged him, but he was still annoying. So I locked him in the bedroom. Soundproof. Mostly. Very useful.” She gestured towards the closed door. “Take all the time you need, but don't do any irreparable damage to the place. That's my private budget.”

She turned to see what else the minibar had to offer she could be friends with. Boots. Should have told Zaeed to bring boots.

The door to the bedroom opened. There was the sound of frantic scrabbling, as much as there could be from a guy gagged and tied up on and to the bed. Shepard picked a bottle of vodka. Better than nothing. The door closed again and she heard steps approaching. Looking over the upended bottle between her teeth she swallowed.

“You're not following the script, Massani.”

“Where did you find him?” Zaeed asked. He pulled bottle from her mouth, examining the non-existent content and opened the minibar. “How did you get to him?”

“Me? Didn't do anything.” Shepard let her eyes peruse the thinning collection of liquors in the minibar. “Left it all to Liara. Only had to pick him up here. Easy. Well, almost.” She indicated her getup with her thumbs. “Can't recommend.”

 “Don't think it'd look and better on me than it does on you,” Zaeed agreed.

“So, what you gonna do now?” Shepard selected another vodka. Better than rum any day. “He's all yours.”

 “I know.” He picked the three small rum bottles and emptied on after another before going on. “Thing is, I don't know. Before Zorya, no question. I would have killed him with no second thought. But now?”

 He sighed and took one of the last remaining bottles. “You're a horrible person, Shepard.” He played with the bottle, sherry, while thinking. “I put that behind me. Didn't think I could. But I did. And just now, I looked at him, all tied up neat and tidy. Good work, too. Excellent technique on the knots.”

 He stopped himself as if he had been about to go onto a spree down memory-lane again, relating another of his stories.

 Shepard picked the bottle from his hands, opened it and took a sip. Then she returned it, making a face. “Thanks."

 “I thought I'd kill him, bullet in the head. Easy, mostly clean.” Zaeed drained the sherry, making a face, too. “But I asked myself 'why?' and you know what, Shepard?”

 She shook her head.

“I had no reason. None, nada, nix.” He lined up the bottle on the minibar that only had soft drinks left in it. “Yeah, he shot me point blank twenty years ago. And look where I am now, and where he is. Especially right now.” He suddenly grinned.

 “Well, it's all up to you anyway.” Shepard closed the minibar with a frustrated sigh and stood up.

 “How long did you book the room?” Zaeed asked suddenly.

 “Just one night,” Shepard replied. “Why?”

 “Ready to extend for a day or two?” There was a spark in Zaeed's eye.

 “And then what?”

 “Nothing.” He got up as well. “We just leave him here. The way he is.”

 Shepard couldn't help but laugh. “That it? Massani, you're getting soft in your old days?”

“Might,” he growled. “Not my fault though.”

“Whatever you want.” She grinned as she called on the reception and extended the stay for two nights. “You're a mean bastard still.”

 “Glad to hear it.” He gestured at the door. “I need a drink. What about you?”

“Change of clothes would be nice, but I'll take the drink.”

“Ma'am.” Zaeed offered his arm.

Glancing at her heels, Shepard shrugged. Those things were torture. She'd leave them. “Lead the way Mr Massani.”

“You really going out like that?” He gave her a short once-over as they left the hotel.

“Got a better outfit for me on you?” She returned the glance.

“Not that I can think off. You look -”

“Watch it, Zaeed.” It was satisfactory to be able to poke him in the chest. “At least I am not towering over you any longer with the heels off.”

“Speaking about that,” he sighed.

“I'm a Spectre,” Shepard huffed. “My footwear is irrelevant. Besides, you could use my looks to get us a good brawl.”

“Whatever you say, ma'am.”

“That's what I like to hear.”

“I'll remember that.”

“Massani?”

“Yeah?”

“Watch it.”

“With interest.”


	2. Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be a one shot.  
> If you would like some silly Shepard/Zaeed trash, though, here's some. It took on a life of its own and I apologise to the fish.

Zaeed Massani was a happy man right up until the point where he realised that this was not his bed he was waking up in. The feeling sky-rocketed when a glance around yielded enough information to make it commander Shepard's cabin. The fuck was he doing there?

And, he rolled over to one side of the double bed, fully clothed, too. With boots. Shepard would have his head. If she found out. He put his feet on the floor and his head in his hands, trying to reconstruct the events that led to him being here. They had had a few drinks, so far so good. And a great big brawl.

Zaeed almost laughed again when he remembered the faces of the thugs as Shepard went berserk on them. If you wanted to turn that woman into a killing machine, all you had to do was put her in a skimpy dress with no weapons for a few hours. And just because she wore no shoes, didn't mean body armour would stop her feet. A mistake he wouldn't ever make now.

And then? Not more drinks if her recalled correctly as they had been evicted from the bar. But there had been a shop selling – something. It burnt when you drank it, that was all the recollection he had of the liquid with a lightly reddish tint. His brain tried to gloss over a staggering Shepard belting out horrible tunes while he dragged her back to the Normandy.

Didn't even make it. Shepard had turned into a fountain and collapsed, almost drowning in the actual fountain she had used as trash can. Didn't clear up the point why he hadn’t dropped her sorry arse up here after he had it slung over his shoulder for a walk way too long for a drunken man.

He might have made a stop for coffee, come to think of it. And gotten a really underwhelming offer for his burden. And coffee. And spilt half of it when the damned paragon of humanity had started beating out a samba on the back of his thigh plates. Almost had dropped her. Maybe he should have. But that woman was difficult to say no to.

Which led directly to more drinks in his place. She had used the garbage compactor to shoot little bundles of trash against the docking bay walls. He really should have stopped her. But he'd probably been too busy waxing goddamned nostalgic.

In the end EDI stopped her by incapacitating the trash compactor due to complaints from the docking facility. And then that impossible woman had started to nod off and him in no shape to drag anybody anywhere.

Which had been the exact moment she had told him she wouldn't go anywhere either, stretching out on his bunk, and that he could sleep in her cabin or on the floor, she didn't care. Maybe the floor would have been a better idea. Maybe not. That woman.

Zaeed rubbed his temples and stood up. At least the hangover wasn't as bad as it could have been. He stumbled into the dip and dumped cold water over his head. Time to get moving.

Shepard had impeccable timing, though, striding right into him when he opened the door of her cabin. “You!” Her index finger descended into his chest plate. “You were sleeping on my bed with the boots still on. Boots! Not in my fucking bed, Massani.”

“Oh yeah, and you didn't do the same to mine?” He held his ground. It was either that or fall down the few steps in front of the fish tank in an undignified manner.

“Unimportant,” she said after a startled second. “Because I have proof and you do not.”

“Proof?” He raised a brow which was causing a headache. Goddamned great.

“Your surveillance module.” She crossed her arms before her. “Picture perfect. Horrible sight, too. Fucking dirty boots on my sheets.”

“Shepard,” Zaeed let out a long suffering sigh. “The surveillance doesn't cover your cabin. Who do you think I am?”

“It does now,” she replied.

“And whose idea was that?” Zaeed wanted to know.

“Can't remember,” she shrugged and walked around him to feed her fish. “Awkward. Come to think of it now.”

Zaeed was ready to rub his temples until his fingers met behind his eyes. “Look, Shepard,” he didn't get any further.

“I think you agreed to call me Shep. In private.” She was chewing on her lip thoughtfully.

Another thing Zaeed did not want to deal with. Ever if possible. “Look, _Shep_ ,” he began again. “I need to get tidied up and something against this headache you're causing-”

“I am causing?”

“Yes,” he just went on ignoring her pout. “Just come down later and we'll undo that surveillance setting again.”

“Can't do it on your own?” She sniggered.

“Can, but will you ever stop teasing me about it if you don't watch?”

“Truth.” She looked disappointed about having this entertainment taken from her. “I'll be down with you later.”

“Yeah, you should let me go.”

At that, Shepard burst into laughter, gesturing for him to leave with an exaggerated bow. A view that would be difficult to forget, considering she was still wearing that goddamned skimpy dress.


	3. Mission: Turning an Eye Blind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is making less and less sense.

“Whoa, Massani! You upgraded!” Shepard pointed in exaggeration at the second chair at his table with both hands. “Living life on the luxury side now, are we?”

“The alternatives were all less than agreeable,” Zaeed replied.

“Alternatives? To a second chair? You certain about those?” She made a show of walking around the new item.

Uncrossing his arms, Zaeed slowly walked to the desk. “There were several. I could stand while you sit, or you sit on my bed or you sit down on my lap. Not gonna happen.”

Turning the new chair around, Shepard sat down on it the wrong way round, putting her arms over the backrest, putting her chin on them. “Ever considered piggy-back?”

“I won't have my commanding officer look over my shoulder the whole time,” Zaeed said.

“Heh, the new setting is doing that the other way round, isn't it?” She scuttled around with the chair until it faced the surveillance module andpoked it until the new view came up. “Whoa! You have it zoomed in on the fish tank!”

“What else?” He asked back. “Had to make sure to have it on the most interesting part of your cabin in view while I can.”

“And here I was, putting on a real show for you.” Her shoulders slumped.

“Yeah? Like what?”

“You could have watched,” she sulked. “It's not funny when you were not there.”

“Shepard – Shep, I wouldn't have been there no matter what. Remember? That was the problem.”

“Right. Right.” She straightened again. “So, ready to undo the fish tank setting.”

She watched his hands as Zaeed called up the code. He knew what he was doing, alright. The camera in her cabin came up, he deleted it from the available choice, confirmed the decision and they both were taken aback by the sad noise accompanying the failure notice.

“What?” The mercenary retraced his steps, tried to delete again and only elicited another unhappy warble from the module.

“That's not right,” Shepard said. “Let me have a try.”

He pushed the module over to her without a word. But she didn't have any more success. “EDI, can you access this surveillance module?”

“Of course, Commander,” the ship's artificial intelligence replied. “What do you want me to do this time?”

“This time?” Zaeed asked. “You accessed it before?”

“That is correct, Mr Massani,” the voice replied. “I was requested to access the surveillance module seven hours and forty-seven minutes ago to change the settings. The security of the module was acceptable but not a big challenge.”

“Who told you to do that?” Zaeed sounded angry.

“You did, Mr Massani,” EDI replied. “Du you wish to access the audio file?”

“Damned well, I do,” he growled. A moment later his voice echoed through the room, slightly metallic and also somewhat slurred, but definitely, ordering EDI to access the surveillance module. “Do you remember that, Shepard?”

“Not a bit,” she furrowed her brow. “EDI, when was that?”

“It was twelve minutes and thirteen seconds after I shut down the garbage compactor,” EDI supplied.

“Why would you do that?”

“Don't tell me you have forgotten your target practice with the garbage compactor,” Zaeed sighed.

“Oops. Okay, explains it totally. Sorry.” It was unfair that she didn't remember something that sounded like that much fun.

“The port authorities have agreed not to file charges,” EDI said.

“Well, that's alright then, isn't it? So the surveillance module,” Shepard changed the topic back. “Can you delete the setting for my cabin?”

“I am sorry, I have no access to those commands, Commander.”

“Then hack them,” she replied.

“I cannot.”

“You said you did it before,” Shepard replied. “What stops you now?”

“I have explicit orders not to, Commander.”

“Who from?” Zaeed asked.

“On authority of Commander Shepard and Zaeed Massani,” EDI explained. “The change in settings has been ordered in mutual agreement. I am not allowed to hack or change them.”

“But we are both telling you to,” Shepard argued.

“A situation you have anticipated and warded against,” EDI said. “Replaying audio log.”

The replay left them stunned and staring at each other. “How drunk was I?”

“Damned if I remember,” Zaeed replied. “Can't remember a goddamned lick of that, either.”

“EDI,” Shepard tried to reason with the AI again, “you realise that 'until hell freezes over' is a metaphor? Right?”

“I have done research, Commander,” EDI replied. “Taking all information into consideration, the mentioned place corresponds to Sheol in the Hades Nexus. Recent data proves that it has not frozen over yet.”

“That's a red dwarf,” Zaeed said.

“That is correct,” EDI supplied. “Calculations show that it is likely to freeze over several Trillions of years from now.”

“And you cannot override this? Or we?” Shepard wanted to know.

“I cannot under your very own orders and terra-forming a red dwarf has not yet been attempted,” EDI said.

“What can we do?” Shepard looked at the mercenary.

“Don't look at me,” Zaeed said. “The log clearly shows I was just going along.”

“Why would you even do that?”

“Because you are my commanding officer?”

“And you always do what I tell you?”

In reply, he crossed his arms before him with a hard glare.

Well. Right. She glared back. This would take some time.

“Oh alright,” the mercenary finally budged. “What man wouldn't jump on the chance to peek whenever he could. It is well known you have the most gorgeous, amazing, not to mention hard to get at fish in the Terminus Systems.”

“Zaeed?”

“Yes?”

“You do realise that there are times I really would like to throttle you?”

“Damned right, too,” he growled. “Can't be responsible for you loosing your edge.”

“So, what do we do about this now?”

“How about we get another AI to hack the module?” Zaeed suggested. “Got to have some in our contacts.”

“I am afraid that I cannot allow this, Mr Massani,” EDI spoke up. “Access to any of the systems under my control cannot be relinquished. I am bound by security protocol to keep any attempts from succeeding.”

“You are controlling my surveillance module now?” Zaeed did not sound happy.

“As requested, Mr Massani.”

Shepard suspected that this request was also locked in until hell froze over. “Any planets orbiting Sheol?”

“Gei Hinnom, Commander,” EDI said. “The planet has nearly no atmosphere but is inhabited because of its Prothean dig sites and mining. It was a close second candidate for hell, but discarded.”

So freezing Sheol might not be an option either. “What if we just freeze the image on the fish?”

“You gotta pass in front of that now and then, Shep,” Zaeed said. “We can try to find an acceptable position though.”

They spent a long time trying to find something that did not include a sweep of the room in any way. “Who even set up that camera?” Shepard finally sighed.

“It is part of the security rig that Cerberus had installed. It is not marked on the schematics,” EDI informed them.

“No surprise there,” Zaeed said. “I have a good idea. EDI, show the position of the camera on the cabin's schematics.”

“As you wish, Mr Massani.” The display of the surveillance module flickered, then showed the blueprint of the captain's cabin.

“Right. Come on Commander Shep, we're going to kick some goddamned camera arse.” He stood up, and turned to leave.

“You're just going to shoot it, aren't you?” Shepard followed.

“Not if I can dismantle it,” Zaeed said. “We'll know when we get there. Any other ideas?”

Shepard leant against the wall of the elevator, thinking. “Elevator music. That would be nice. I am stuck in this thing way too often.”

“I'm sure EDI can arrange something.”

“Do you know her taste in music?” Shepard was doubtful.

“Can't be worse than yours, Commander.”

“How would you even know?” She crossed her arms before her and stalked off.

Zaeed followed, his shrug invisible. “From the choice of songs you, well, sang-”

“Shut it,” Shepard interrupted him. “You know nothing.”

“I wish,” he sighed. “But you sing about as well as you dance.” He dodged an elbow aimed at his ribs and just went on. “There it is. Right next to the dip. This should be interesting.”

The camera was set into the bulkhead a bit to the left over the door. “Didn't think I'd be in this dip again so soon.” Zaeed poked at the bulkhead behind the camera with one of his guns.

“You used my shower?”

“Shep, I don't look that fucking fresh and shiny from nothing in the morning.”

“You looked like something a varren shat out, Zaeed.”

“There you go then,” he growled. “Only held my head under the tap for a moment or two.”

After looking around for a moment, he appropriated the chair and stood on it to reach the camera. Shepard watched slightly worried. The swivel chair was not made for this kind of manoeuvre. The chair agreed after a few prods at the bulkhead. It creaked a little, tilted a little and when the mercenary tried to balance the weight, it snapped and toppled. Zaeed followed it to the ground, cursing and looking undignified.

“Tell me if you want to die, Massani,” Shepard quipped. “I can help.”

“Help me get up there, Shep,” he replied. “Or I'll just keep the setting and make a lot of money renting out time slots.”

Shepard scrutinised her broken chair, shaking her head. “Good thing I have more of those,” she sighed. “Let's get the one from the lounge corner.”

That chair was more substantial, heavy to move and not very high. Zaeed was already muttering again, trying to pry off a piece of the metal plating. In the meantime Shepard repaired the broken office chair as well as possible.

“Oh hell,” Zaeed cursed. “The fucking bastards wired it up integrity unsafe.”

“What does that mean?” Shepard tried to look into the opening, but her perspective was somewhat barred by her standing on the ground and Zaeed on her chair before her.

“Meaning that if we try to remove it or cut the cables, it will cause a hull breach,” he replied. “Bad for your hamster at least.”

“Just my luck,” Shepard sighed. “Anyway to avoid that?”

“From yours truly Cerberus?” Zaeed asked back. “What are the goddamned chances?”

“Right,” Shepard agreed. “What about not spacing my arse and find something else. Maybe convince EDI that hell is actually Gei Hinnom. Shouldn't be too difficult to make that rock freeze over.”

“Whatever you say, Shepard.” Zaeed returned the chair to the lounge corner. “I'm sure there is an easier way.”

Shepard chewed on her lip, arms crossed before her, staring at the obnoxious piece of technology. “Can't believe they installed that,” she said. “Can't believe I never considered it. Must be in every room of the Normandy. Makes you think, actually.”

“Don't,” Zaeed said. “That will only get you into more trouble.”

“I'll give you trouble.”

“You already did.”

Shepard could not disagree with that. “So how about we just glue something over it? A nice motivational image of me, to keep you in line?”

“Got anything specific in mind?” Zaeed leant against the bulkhead.

“Not yet. Don't have any images of myself, either.” She began to chew on her lip again. “Something with pointed guns maybe?”

“Look at the net. You're sure to find something there,” Zaeed suggested with a grin.

“Worth a try, where do I start?”

“You have to be kidding me,” Zaeed said, pulled the desk chair towards her personal terminal and powered it up. “Commander Shepard, paragon of humanity doesn't know how to do a net search.”

“Believe it or not, I did have other things on my mind since returning from the dead.” She took up position behind him, gazing at the screen over his shoulder. “And I don't think I would have found much on the Collectors in there. Whoa! Those are a lot of pictures, Zaeed. And I am sure I did never pose for that. Or that and what am I even supposed to be doing on this one?”

“What did you expect, Shep? Your a goddamned legend. People sell VIs of you and you didn't think somebody got the idea to draw you with fucking huge,” he hesitated a moment, “guns?”

“I really shouldn't be surprised, should I?” She pushed him aside on the wobbly chair to occupy a half of it. “Show me what you got.”

“Remember that it was an order, Commander,” Zaeed said.

“Well, that is indeed a very big gun,” Shepard had to admit a few images later. “Looks like a Geth Turret, though whoever drew this has no idea how you operate one. Not to mention I don't lug one around with me. Why not use the M-6 Carnifex. I love those things.”

“Try covering yourself with those, Shep,” Zaeed muttered. “You're better off with the turret, trust me.”

“And people just draw these?” She leant towards the monitor.

“If you are sure you didn't pose for them,” Zaeed began but was stopped by an elbow in the ribs that almost dislodged him from the chair. “I take that is a no.”

“Can you find out who made them?” Shepard wanted to know.

“No.”

“Why not?” She insisted.

“Because I won't be dragged on a quest across the galaxy hunting down goddamned porn artists,”Zaeed replied. “Don't deny it.”

“Alright, alright.” With a sigh, Shepard shut down her personal terminal. “Hey, I got another idea.”

“I'm listening.”

“Watch it Massani.”

“Don't I always?” He stood up which toppled the broken chair and disposed Shepard on the ground. He held out his hand automatically.

Shepard took it, allowing herself to be pulled to her feet. “Part of our problem.” She crouched under the desk and started rummaging through the dustbin under it. “Should be here somewhere.”

“Do I want to know?” Zaeed asked from behind her.

“You'll have to,” came the reply. Finally, Shepard straightened again with a battered cardboard box in her hands. “Knew it was around still,” she said triumphantly.

“A Reaper model ship?” Zaeed asked unbelieving, glancing at her model ship collection. “Really? Reaper?”

“Perfect,” Shepard countered. Turning the box over, she found a small image of a Reaper ship and began to rip it out.

“Crazy,” Zaeed disagreed. “But acceptable. Here, let me help with that.” Taking the box from her hands, the mercenary sprung a knife from its hiding place on is armour, neatly cutting out the image. “You're sure you don't have one of one of your fish around?”

“Beggars can't be choosers,” Shepard shrugged, looking around for something to attach the cover to the bulkhead with.

“I could bring something prettier,” Zaeed suggested.

“If you think I'll change the image every few days to please your aesthetic feelings, you are mightily mistaken, mister.”

“Right,” he said. “Looks like you can't even attach one piece of cardboard anyway.”

Shepard gave him a long hard look before going to her weapons' locker. “You know nothing. I have a prototype here. Fires darts. Perfect fit...”


	4. Epilogue

In retrospect, using a dart-firing prototype weapon to hang up a piece of cardboard didn't sound like a good idea even to start with. Anyway, if they had wanted a goddamned hull breach, they could just have disconnected the camera. Or fired his goddamned gun at it from the start. Maybe the fact that the first dart had ricocheted off the bulkhead and stuck in the fish tank should have cued them in. But the tank had held, for the time being, and Shepard on a mission was unstoppable Shepard.

Zaeed watched his Commander pace in his room and complain with big gestures about how unfair it was that she was banned from her very own cabin. And that she couldn't even see what was going on in there because, even though dart two had stuck in the wall over the shower and dart three had shattered her model of the Ascension on its rebound, she was still muttering about that now and then. Well, the darts four and five had managed to secure the cardboard in the desired position

Zaeed was actually counting that as a victory, but Shepard would have none of that. She also wouldn't trust two darts to hold the image in place.

“Told you the last dart was a mistake,” he growled.

“When did I ever listen to you, Zaeed?” Shepard kept pacing.

“Then take note and remember,” he replied. “You might learn something.”

“You keep saying that. And look at your decisions.”

“Those were all made under influence,” Zaeed countered. “At least yours, and also aided by alcohol.”

“When we destroyed the Collectors we sure have to go on a drinking spree again,” Shepard said, stopping in her tracks and grinning. “The bits I remember of that evening were great.”

“Any ideas how to avoid the other half, which is giving us trouble now?” Zaeed asked. Then he remembered that shooting at her own bulkhead was a decision Shepard had made completely sober. And that woman was to save the galaxy? No wonder she needed all the help she could get.

“We could take everybody along?” She suggested and took up pacing again.

“And how will having Jack along help?” Zaeed could see that in detail and it did not improve the situation. At least not in the way they were looking for. “She'll be quite a sight in a fight, though.”

“Agreed, but not solving my current problem.”

“It won't be a problem once we're through the Omega 4 Relay,” Zaeed replied. “Or you could have pulled that stunt with Santiago a little sooner. Then we'd still have been on Illium when you shot your own cabin to pieces.”

“Thanks for the input, Massani. Very helpful indeed.”

“At least you still have the hamster,” he said. “Damned if I knew why you grabbed that of all things.”

“He was within reach,” Shepard just said. Also, the fish would have been difficult. They were probably shock frosted by now, hanging in the water frozen while spilling from the tank. It was a nuisance. She would have to get new fish. And maybe an automated feeder. Well, next time.

“Thanks for letting him stay,” she said, stopping in front of the cage which had found its place next to the krogan helmet and tapped the glass gently.

“Shep, you practically moved in the day I set up shop down here,” Zaeed said. “You might as well make it official by moving in your pet as well.”

Shepard straightened up again turning towards the mercenary. “Actually, that was the first thing that moved in here,” she said grinning insolently.

For a moment, Zaeed just looked at her. Then he leant back against the bulkhead. “One day, commander, I'll just shoot you in the back.”

“I know,” she replied unconcerned. “That will certainly be a day to remember.”

“For one of us at least.” He returned her grin.

“Commander, the Reaper IFF is ready,” the ship's AI cut in.

“Thank you EDI.” Shepard looked at the ceiling shortly. “Well, getting shot in the back by you will have to wait. You will have to fight the Collectors for a place in the queue.”

“They won't stand a change, Shep,” Zaeed growled. “If anybody gets to shoot you from behind, that will be me.”

“I appreciate the sentiment.” She suppressed a sigh. “Get your guns ready. I'll see you in the briefing room.”

“As you wish.” Zaeed would make sure that if they survived this madness, the opened bottle of Mount Milgrom would be put to good use. A show like that was enough to cheer up anybody.


End file.
